


Grow Old Without You

by respoftw



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Episode Related, Episode: s03e07 Common Ground, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Old Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-09-27 13:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10022024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw
Summary: A canon divergent AU after 'Common Ground'“We just don’t have the resources or the facilities to care for him here.  I wish that circumstances were different, you have no idea how much I wish that, but the fact remains.  My medical recommendation is for us to send him back to Earth.”Rodney refuses to leave John behind.





	1. Chapter 1

“We just don’t have the resources or the facilities to care for him here.  I wish that circumstances were different, you have no idea how much I wish that, but the fact remains.  My medical recommendation is for us to send him back to Earth.”

Rodney had never hated Carson before; he didn’t think it was possible for anyone to hate Carson.  Not until he had uttered those words and signed John’s death sentence.

Instead of the defiant refusal he expected Elizabeth to answer with, he watched with horror as she nodded imperceptibly and squared her shoulders.  “All right,” she sighed.  “I can’t say it was the answer I was hoping for, but, I agree that it’s for the best.”  She turned to face him, oblivious to the slowly boiling rage building up inside him.  “Rodney, do we have enough power to send a message to General Landry before we send John through?  We should give them time to prepare.”

“Prepare for what, exactly?” Elizabeth’s eyes widened at the ice in Rodney’s voice.  A small part of him was glad to see her shaken like she and Carson had just shaken him.  “What do you think they’re going to do?  You know as well as I do that he’ll be left to rot in some...some zombie, night-of-the-living-dead home.  He’ll be swept under the carpet, another reminder that the venerated SGC have a higher body count than the damn  _ Wraith _ .”  He turned his gaze on Carson who flinched backwards at the intensity.  “Do you even know if he can survive the trip through the ‘gate in his state?   _ Do you _ ?!”

Carson had the good sense to look ashamed, even as his jaw set stubbornly.  “No, Rodney,” he admitted, “I don’t know if he’ll survive another trip through the ‘gate.  Bringing him here almost killed him and we don’t know enough about the ‘gate’s effect on the very old to say that another trip won’t finish the job.”  Rodney opened his mouth to crow victory but Carson steamrolled over him.  “I  _ do _ know, however, that if we keep him here, he’ll die.  And I’m not equipped for palliative care, lad.  He’ll get better care on Earth than he would here.”

Elizabeth’s hand rested gently on his arm, her face pinched in pity.  “The SGC will make sure that he is well looked after, Rodney.  John’s a hero, they’ll find the best place for him.”

Rodney pressed enter and slammed the screen of his laptop closed. He scraped his chair back, shaking Elizabeth’s hand off as if it were a bug and stood up. Rodney looked Elizabeth and Carson calmly in the face.  “The best place for him,” he said mildly,” is with the people who love him. Elizabeth, my resignation will be waiting in your inbox.  It’s effective immediately.  Zelenka would be the best choice to head up the department in my stead.  Carson, I’d appreciate it if you could brief me on everything I’ll need to know about John’s condition before we leave.”

“Rodney, you can’t mean to - - “

“I mean to do  _ everything _ I can to help John.  I won’t abandon him.”

Elizabeth swallowed, holding herself very still as if trying to centre herself.  “Rodney,” she pleaded.  “We need you here.  The Replicators are a very real threat.  I know that you care for John - we all do - but - -”

“Not like I do,” Rodney snapped.  

“Oh.”

Rodney almost smiled at the surprised look on Elizabeth’s face as she finally got a clue.  Her mouth closed tightly.  Rodney guessed that not even Elizabeth could be so cold as to suggest that Rodney leave the man he loved to die alone.

“You do know that, even if he makes it through the ‘gate, he’s not got long left, Rodney?”  Carson’s voice was gentler than Elizabeth’s could ever be.  “The Wraith has aged him almost beyond what the body can take.  His cells and bones are already showing signs of deterioration.  I wouldn’t give him more than six months like he is now.”

Rodney may not have had that fact confirmed to him before now but anyone who had seen the withered old man that they recovered from Kolya’s stronghold would have suspected that John didn’t have long left.  That didn’t stop the words from gripping his heart in a vice.

Rodney’s chin tilted upwards, his eyes blazing.  “Well then, consider this a sabbatical rather than a resignation.  Six months and I’ll be back.”

Elizabeth and Carson knew him well enough to know that there was no changing his mind.  Their reluctant acceptance didn’t exactly feel like a victory, though.  There were no winners in this.

“Six months,” Elizabeth agreed.  “We’ll see you back here in six months.”

None of them voiced the shared knowledge that John’s death, when it came, would signify the end of Rodney’s involvement with the program.  

-*-*-*-

It never _ had _ been possible to keep anything private in Atlantis.  Rodney hadn’t even made it to his quarters before Teyla and Ronon sought him out.

“Not here,” he said, glaring at the rubbernecking passersby.  “We can do this in my room.”

Teyla and Ronon acquiesced, flanking him on either side as they made their way to the corridor that housed both Rodney and John’s quarters.  

Rodney’s door slid open on a messy room, the detritus of a man with more important things to do than tidy up after himself littering the space.  John’s room, by comparison, was military-neat.  It had always been a bone of contention between them but Rodney always suspected that John secretly enjoyed the freedom of not having to care about everything having its proper place when he stayed overnight at Rodney’s.  The blue and white striped boxer shorts that were hanging over the ergonomic desk chair that John had requisitioned for him and the well-worn copy of Dostoyevsky lying haphazardly on the floor were proof of that.  As well as being a punch in the gut.

Rodney blew out a breath that sounded too much like a sob for his liking, only to find Teyla and Ronon immediately there.

Teyla’s strong hands touched the back of his head, bringing their foreheads together in the Athosian embrace.  Rodney let his eyes close as he breathed in the sweet, honeysuckle smell of her skin.

Ronon’s hand rested on his back, a solid, heavy, weight grounding him in the moment.  

He loved both of these people so much and he knew that he was going to miss them every day even if he wasn’t quite sure when that happened.

Breaking their strange, three-way embrace, Rodney blinked back an errant tear that neither Teyla nor Ronon commented on.

“When do you leave?” Teyla asked quietly, already looking over the room assessingly.

“Day after tomorrow,” Rodney replied, sitting down on his unmade bed.  “Elizabeth’s going to brief Landry this evening and we’ll leave 52 hours after that.”

“Stupid,” Ronon grunted.  “He should be here.  We’re kin. Kin looks after each other.”

“If I could take you both with us, I would.”  Rodney really meant it.  He wasn't regretting his decision, couldn’t  _ ever _ regret it, but he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t scared of the responsibility he’d brought on himself.

“You’ll do a good job,” Ronon said.  It didn’t even sound like a threat, he sounded like he really believed that Rodney wouldn’t screw this up.  Rodney wished he could have as much faith.

Teyla’s eyes glistened with a watery film as she took both of Rodney’s hands in her own.  “You will do an  _ excellent _ job of taking care of him.  Of this, I have no doubt.”

Rodney smiled gratefully at them both and squeezed Teyla’s hand. “There isn’t an alternative,” he said.  “Not one that I can live with.”

Teyla straightened up and moved towards Rodney’s closet.  “Let me help you prepare by packing for you,” she said.  “52 hours is not a lot of time to get everything that must be done completed.”

Rodney accepted her offer with a sigh of relief.  “That would be a big help.  I still need to speak to Carson and get a crash course in what John will need; I need to sit down with Radek and transfer over my open projects; I need to get John’s things together; I - - “

“I’ll get his things together for you,” Ronon offered.  “It would be an honour.”

Rodney baulked at the thought of anyone but him going through John’s things but he knew that Ronon was a good choice for the job.  He would know without having to be told that the surfboard and the skateboard weren’t needed anymore.  Rodney wasn’t sure he could cope with having to set aside everything that John could no longer use.

He nodded gratefully at Ronon and stood up, stripping off his blue science shirt and pulling on a long sleeved t-shirt instead.  The t-shirt was soft with years of use and gave him a level of comfort that he knew his next conversation would need.  “I should go and speak to Carson,” he said.  

“We will walk with you,” Teyla said, she and Ronon immediately falling into their flanking formation from earlier.  Rodney saw it for what it was and appreciated it.

“I,” Rodney cleared his throat, “I’m really going to miss you both.  Very much.”

“Not now,” Teyla shook her head. “We still have time before we need to say goodbye.  For now, you are still here with us and there is nothing to miss.” She bowed her head at him serenely.  “Now, let us walk you to the infirmary and perhaps we will both visit John while we can.”

-*-*-*-

Carson didn’t hold back.  Rodney had to at least give him that, even if he really wished that Carson had sugar coated things a bit more.  

Carson sighed unhappily, scooting his chair closer to Rodney.  “You don’t have to do this,” he said, gently.  “Nobody would think any the less of you if you stayed here.”

“ _ I _ would.”  

Carson smiled, wobbly, at him, nodding.  “And you understand that it won’t be easy? For you  _ or _ him. He’s going to need a lot of hands-on care, a lot of personal- -”

“Yes, I heard you the first time,” Rodney snapped, his mind still stuck on the spoon feeding and the incontinence pads.  Feeling guilty, he made an attempt to soften his voice.  “I’m sorry,” he offered, “it’s a lot but...it’s  _ John _ .  I can do this.”

Carson waved his apology off.  “It’s alright, it’s a hard time for us all.”

Rodney nodded, grateful that the conversation was over.  Standing up, he stretched his back until it popped.  

Carson stood with him and forced a cheer on his face.  “Why don’t we go and tell John what’s going on?” 

Rodney followed Carson out into the main floor of the infirmary and mentally prepared himself for facing John.  John had been asleep for most of the time that Rodney had sat by his bedside and Rodney knew from Carson’s lecture on ageing and what it does to a body that he would continue in that vein until he..didn’t.  The sleeping seemed more insidious now that Rodney knew what it signified but, before that, he’d been grateful for the reprieve John’s sleep had given.  As hard it was to see John like that, old and sunken-faced, aged almost beyond recognition, it was a million times harder to see John with his eyes open, the same, hazel eyes that were far too aware of exactly what had happened to him, of exactly how Rodney had let him down.

John was awake as they walked into his private room.  Rodney wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse.  Teyla and Ronon sat on chairs next to his bed, the chairs pulled up close so that John could see and hear them better. Three pairs of eyes swung towards the door when they entered, two filled with sympathy and sorrow and one filled with vitriol.

Rodney took a step back at the intensity of John’s glare which was directed squarely at him.

“No.”  John’s voice was thinner than it had been but still recognisably  _ him _ .  Rodney had only heard it once since they had shot the Wraith off him.  When John had begged for them to finish him off.  Hearing that was almost easier than hearing him now.  “No,” he said again, trying to rise from the bed.  

Carson rushed forward, enlisting Ronon to help ease John back down to the pillow but John resisted.  As weak and frail as he was, John fought them for every inch, his eyes locked on Rodney.

“I won’t let you do it,” he croaked.  “I don’t want you to do it.  I don’t want  _ you _ .”

Rodney reeled back as if he had been struck.  Teyla stood, her palms held outward and stepped towards him.  “Rodney,” she began.

Rodney didn’t let her finish.  He ran from the room and tried to pretend that he didn’t hear John say “Good, let him run.”

How could he have been so stupid to think that he could do this?   
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are many things, Rodney. A quitter is not one of them.”

Rodney escaped to the labs like he always had.  Science had been his escape since he was a boy.  He’d first used it to escape from his grief over losing music and, somehow, hadn’t ever stopped. 

It didn’t look to be working this time, though.  One look at Radek’s wild eyes and wilder hair was enough to remind him that, by handing in his resignation, by foolishly trying to do the right thing, he had given the labs, given his  _ escape _ up.

“You,” Radek pointed an accusing finger at him.  “You did this to me.”  

Rodney stepped aside to let the three other scientists, who had been working in the lab, by him.  Three years in Atlantis was more than enough to hone their sense of self-preservation, be it from Wraith attack or stress-related meltdown - like the one Radek was clearly in the middle of.

“I never wanted this,” Radek ranted, waving his arms wildly about.  “Maybe before we came here, yes, I thought it would be nice to be in charge but I am older now.  Smarter; fatter; wiser.  I have seen what this job does to you and I. Do. Not. Want. It.”  Radek punctuated each word with a jab of the finger, closing in on Rodney with every syllable until his last jab impacted on Rodney’s chest.

Rodney was too tired to embrace the anger that was prickling at him, too wrung out.  He sighed heavily and pushed forcefully past Radek, settling down in front of the nearest laptop. 

“It’s your lucky day,” he said.  “The stories of my resignation were wildly exaggerated. Go and celebrate your new found freedom to continue on in mediocrity.  Preferably somewhere that isn’t here.”

Radek’s mouth closed with a bite, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.  “But..the Colonel, he is...and you were supposed to - -”

“Yes, yes,” Rodney snapped.  “It was all very romantic and selfless, you don’t have to be a genius to realise that it’s not something I would ever really do.  Petty, arrogant and bad with people, remember?”

“If you truly believe that any one person can be summed up in just three traits then you are indeed bad with people.”

Rodney groaned and slumped his shoulders as Teyla’s voice intruded on their conversation.  He heard her quietly assure Radek that she would deal with this and the sound of the door closing behind Radek on his way out.

“Teyla,” he began.

She cut him off with a look.  “Loyal,” she started to count points off on her fingers, “courageous, intelligent, loving, warm-hearted, wise,” Teyla smiled softly at him.  “You are many things, Rodney.  A quitter is not one of them.”

“You heard what he said.  He doesn’t want me there.”

Teyla pulled up a stool and sat on it gracefully, pulling it close enough that her knees touched his own.  “I heard the words of someone who is very scared,” she said, “of someone who thinks it is easier to push the people he loves away than accept their help.  I cannot imagine what John is going through at this moment, being fed upon by the Wraith is a horror that plagues the nightmares of all my people, but I  _ do _ know that he needs us to push through his walls.”  Teyla reached out and gripped the back of Rodney’s neck, bringing their foreheads together for the second time that day.  “You are stronger than you know, Rodney.  You can push through them.  You have to.”

Rodney closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.  Gently, he touched the back of Teyla’s neck and squeezed softly in thanks. Teyla squeezed back in answer before breaking the embrace and sitting back on her stool.  

“I - “ Rodney cleared his throat when the word came out weak - “I’m scared that I’m going to..Carson’s reality check might have freaked me out,” he finally admitted.  

Teyla smiled warmly at him.  “That is allowed.  We are all allowed to ‘freak out’ every now and again.  What is important is what we do afterwards.”  She stood up and held herself tall.  “What are you going to do afterwards, Rodney?”

Rodney closed the laptop and stood.  

“Radek?” he called out.

The door slid open to reveal where Radek had been eavesdropping.  “Your resignation is back on?” Radek asked, sounding strangely hopeful.

Rodney couldn’t work out whether he sounded hopeful because he wanted Rodney to answer yes or no.  The proud gleam and downturned mouth he got in answer to his nod didn’t make it any clearer.  Rodney mused that, while he  _ may _ be many things, he really was bad with people.

He just hoped that he was good with John.

-*-*-*-

Ronon was standing outside John’s private room when Rodney and Teyla both arrived back at the infirmary.

“You got him back,” Ronon raised an impressed eyebrow at Teyla.  “Quicker than I thought you would.”

Rodney narrowed his eyes.  “What happened to ‘ _ you’ll do a great job, Rodney? _ ’”

Ronon shrugged in answer.  “You will.  Doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to let it get to you.”

“Oh.”  Rodney hadn’t expected that level of pragmatism from Ronon.  Or the lack of judgement.  

Ronon clapped him on the back and nodded towards John’s closed door.  “Just don’t let it happen again.”

Rodney hesitated and Teyla nudged him gently forward.  “Remember your courage, Rodney.  We will be right here should you need us.”

Taking a deep breath, Rodney nodded and thought the door open.  It was now or never

-*-*-*-

A nurse whose name Rodney couldn’t remember, or maybe had just never bothered to learn, sat with John, feeding him a watery broth.  They both looked up at the sound of the door opening and Rodney felt something break in him as John shuttered up, a blank yet somehow still angry look settling on his face.

He forced a smile for the nurse.  “I can finish that off,” he said, gesturing to the half-full bowl.  The nurse - Mary? Marie? Brenda? - looked between them and Rodney could see the way she almost refused but his pathetic look must have been more convincing than John’s glare and she handed the spoon over before leaving.

Rodney sat in her vacated seat and steeled himself.  He picked up the spoon and held it up to John’s mouth.

Which John refused to open.

Rodney wasn’t going to admit defeat that easily. He thought back to Teyla’s speech, to Carson’s warnings.  As hard as this was on all of them, it was infinitely harder on John.  Maybe what John needed was to be treated the same as he always had.  As much as he could be, anyway.

Rodney held the spoon out obstinately.  “Open up, Colonel,” he snapped.  “I thought you were ninety, not three.”

John’s eyes, god they looked the same, flashed in anger.  Rodney was pretty sure that the only thing that stopped John from tipping the bowl over was the fact that he was too weak to reach for the bowl and too unsteady to be sure that he would hit it if he tried.  “I’m  _ thirty-nine _ ,” John shouted.  “Not  _ ninety _ , not  _ three _ ,  _ thirty-goddamn-nine _ .”  

Rodney’s shoulder slumped as he let the spoon clatter against the ceramic of the bowl.  “I know that,” he said quietly.  “I’m sorry, I was trying to - - “ he sighed, running his hands through his hair - - “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I can tell you what I  _ don’t  _ want,” John countered.  “I don’t want you to see me like this.  I don’t want you to have to feed me or bathe me or - - I  _ can’t _ .”

“You would do the same fo- -”

“ _ I wouldn’t do it for you _ ,” John interrupted Rodney’s rebuttal, the words slicing as painfully as the sharpest knife.  “If you were lying here and I was sitting there....I wouldn’t do it for you.”

“Yes, well,” Rodney tried not to let the hurt show, “if you think it’s news to me that I love you more than you love me, you’re mistaken.  Now, are you going to eat the damn soup or am I going to have to ask Carson how to insert an IV?”

John turned his head away from him, answering Rodney’s question without words.  Rodney sat there, holding the spoon out until his arm started to ache, a battle of wills that neither one of them was willing to give up.

Rodney didn’t set the spoon down until John drifted off to sleep, his ire not enough to keep him awake.   As soon as he was sure that John was asleep, Rodney hurled the spoon across the room where it hit the wall and landed forlornly on the floor.  He sat there until his breathing was under control and then stood up, scraping his chair across the floor.

“Fight me all you want,” he said to John’s sleeping form.  “I’m not leaving you behind.”

Rodney stalked out the room and started towards the labs again, Ronon and Teyla flanking him.  He had a lot to arrange if they were going to be leaving in less than 50 hours.

-*-*-*-

“Are you sure about this Rodney?  It’s not too late to change your mind.”

Rodney ignored Elizabeth as he gratefully accepted the pack that Teyla was holding out for him.  She and Ronon had been indispensable these past two days, packing up both his and John’s things and arranging them for storage on the Daedalus while Rodney worked on talking Radek down from his hourly panic attacks and engaged in his ongoing battle of wills with John.

“Rodney,” Elizabeth sighed.  “John has asked that I refuse your resignation.  He doesn’t want you going through that ‘gate.”

Rodney scoffed, finally looking at Elizabeth.  “Is that so?  Well, he also asked us to leave him to die on that planet and I didn’t see you listening to him then.”  He shouldered his pack on and glanced around the empty room one last time. Finding nothing left behind, he turned back to Elizabeth and tilted his chin upwards, drawing on the depleted resolve that he had left.  “Besides, the only way you’re stopping me is by putting me in a cell.”

“You would also have to incarcerate me, Elizabeth,” Teyla spoke up, stepping to stand by Rodney’s side.

“And me.”  Ronon twirled his blaster casually from his place at the door.

Elizabeth sighed heavily.  “No one is getting incarcerated.”  She hesitated, crossing her arms over her chest and cupping her right elbow.  “I think what you’re doing is a good thing.  I just...if you think it hurts now, you have no idea how much it will hurt when...how much it will hurt later.  You don’t have to put yourself through that, Rodney.”

Rodney’s eyes softened.  Elizabeth wasn’t the enemy here but he’d lost sight of that for a moment.  He motioned for Ronon and Teyla to leave them alone for a moment and focused on Elizabeth. 

“You’re right,” he said to her.  “I don’t know what I’m letting myself in for.  I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, I don’t even know how to get him to talk to me, let alone accept help from me.  But, you know what I  _ do  _ know?  I know that no one deserves to go through something like this alone and I know - no matter what he says - that he would do the same thing for me.  So, you’re right, Elizabeth.  But you’re also wrong because I  _ do _ have to do this.  And I think you know that.”

Elizabeth smiled sadly.  “You’re not the same man that stepped through that ‘gate.  I don’t think the SGC are going to know what to make of you.”

“They always did underestimate me,” he joked.  “You never did.”

“You take good care of him, Rodney,” she ordered.  “Know that we love you both and that you will always have a place here.”

Rodney stepped towards her and pulled her forehead to his, Athosian style.  Elizabeth’s lips parted in surprise and she laughed softly, wrapping her arms around him in an Earth-style hug. 

That was good too.

-*-*-*-

Rodney stood in front of the ‘gate while Carson wheeled John into the ‘gate room.  John was hunched over himself, a blanket tucked across his lap and an IV attached to his arm.  He looked around the ‘gate room, empty but for Rodney, Teyla, Ronon, Carson and Elizabeth, not even a technician to dial the ‘gate, and looked questioningly up at Rodney, something other than anger in his eyes for the first time in two days.

Rodney shrugged.  “You don’t want people to remember you like this,” he said.  “Just because I won’t let you talk me out of this doesn’t mean that I don’t listen.”

John’s lips twitched.  There was no way it could be mistaken for a smile but it was the closest he’d gotten to one since Kolya had taken him and Rodney was glad to see it.

“Thank you,” John said quietly.

Rodney nodded back at him.  “You’re welcome.  Now, wait here while I go and dial.”

_ There _ was the glare that Rodney had grown used to.  Maybe it was his imagination, but it seemed less angry this time.  Rodney jogged up the steps to the control room and dialled the coordinates for Earth.  From his vantage point above the floor he watched as Teyla and the others said their goodbyes to John, Teyla kneeling on the floor to bring their foreheads together, Ronon gently squeezing his shoulder, Carson blubbering and Elizabeth hovering awkwardly before kneeling down to hug him.

John accepted them all with more grace than he’d shown Rodney these past two days and Rodney resolved that, no matter how this ended, he’d see each one of these people again.  Even if it was only at John’s funeral.

The wormhole connected and O’Neill’s voice sounded over the radio, his usually mocking tones as serious as Rodney had ever heard of it.  “We’re ready for you on this end, Atlantis, as per your instructions.  Come on through when you’re ready.”

Rodney huffed.  As if anyone could ever be ready for this. And they better have followed his instructions to the letter or they would never hear the end of it.

Making his way back down the stairs, he smiled at his friends,  _ his family _ .  “This is it,” he said.  “Just...don’t blow the city up.  That’s all I ask.”

“No promises,” Ronon deadpanned.  “Look after each other,” he said more seriously.

“Remember your promise, John,” Teyla said ominously.  John nodded silently and Rodney wondered what that was all about.

“Sometime today would be nice,” General O’Neill’s voice sounded over the radio, interrupting the goodbyes, and Rodney rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered.  “You ready?” he asked John.

“Not even a little bit,” John answered.

“Yeah.  Me Neither.”  Rodney lifted off the brake from John’s chair and started to push.  “That’s never stopped us before.”

He didn’t let himself look back before he pushed the chair through the wormhole, didn’t think he’d be able to take that last step if he did.  

They disappeared through the wormhole and left Atlantis together. 

_ Together. _

That was something, at least.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Rodney arrive at the SGC

Every time Rodney stepped through the ‘gate to the SGC he was struck by how ugly the mountain base was.  It looked especially ugly today but that may have been his mood colouring things darker than they really were.  He was gratified, at least, to see that O’Neill had followed his instructions to the letter and the ‘gate room, along with the control room, was empty but for O’Neill himself and a team of medics standing by.

The medics swarmed up the ramp as soon as the wormhole closed behind them, descending on John with a glee that put Rodney’s back up.  While he understood the urgency in checking that the ‘gate travel hadn’t had any detrimental effects on John, they didn’t need to look quite so happy about getting to examine a Wraith-aged victim up close.  Hadn't they sent enough through the 'gate already?  

After quickly assuring himself that John was alright (breathing: check, face like thunder: check), Rodney did what he did best.  Complained.  Loudly.

“O’Neill,” he yelled, “when did you start replacing the medical staff here with vultures?  I was very clear in my instructions.  Unless you want to lose any hope of me agreeing to consult with you again, you’ll call your harpies off and get us out of here in - - “

“Forty-eight hours, McKay,” Jack waved the medics off as he sauntered up to the ramp.  “You know the procedure.  Quarantine for 48 hours and then you can leave.”

Rodney opened his mouth to argue but Jack cut him off.

“Your house won’t be ready until the day after tomorrow anyway.  Your standards for the adaptations were...exacting.”  Jack ignored Rodney’s floundering and turned his attention towards John.

Rodney watched, waiting for the first look of pity on O’Neill’s face, ready to wipe it off with his fist if necessary, but was surprised to see the General salute John instead.

“Colonel Sheppard,” he said, as seriously as was possible for Jack, “I’m sorry as hell about what happened.  We’re gonna do our very best to make sure you get the best care possible, starting with a private room to wait out the next 48 hours.  The corridors have been cleared between here and your rooms.  Dr. Lam will check you both out and there will be someone on call in case of emergency but, apart from that, you’ll get as much privacy as you want.”  He hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting to Rodney briefly, before shaking his head as if dismissing what he had been intending to say.  “Let’s get you both settled.  The ‘gate lag from Pegasus is a bitch.”

-*-*-*-

John was asleep again, the trip through the ‘gate having exhausted him.  Thankfully, there were no other side-effects that Lam could detect and Rodney felt a weight lift from his chest.  Of course, his chest still felt like there was an elephant sitting on it but at least the elephant was a bit smaller now.

The room the SGC had kitted out for them was as comfortable as a room without windows could be and Rodney wished he could follow John’s example and sleep in the surprisingly comfortable and - after Atlantis - huge bed but he had a million things to sort out first.  If Lam would ever finish with his medical, that was.

“You know, Carson managed to get this done a whole lot faster,” he griped as he tightly pressed a cotton ball into the crook of his inner arm.  “And it hurt a hell of a lot less, too.  Can I go now?”

Lam levelled him with a glare.  “Sit,” she snapped.

Rodney sat.

“I’m worried about some of the results I’m seeing here,” she said.  

“What?” Rodney stood again, concerned.  “You just said that John was fine.  Well,” he waved his hands, as well as he could while still pressing the cotton ball down, “as fine as he _can_ be considering the circumstances.”

“It’s not Colonel Sheppard’s results that I’m talking about,” Lam crossed her arms stubbornly.  “It’s yours.  Your blood pressure is considerably higher than I would like it to be.  If you were under my care, you would be pulled from any off-world activity immediately.”

Rodney bristled.  “Well, it’s a good thing that I no longer work for the SGC then, isn’t it?”

“You may no longer work for them but you _are_ under my care, at least for the next forty-six hours and I’m concerned about these numbers.  Dr. Beckett’s records indicate that your blood pressure has been borderline in the past but never at this level.  I need to determine if there’s an underlying reason.”

Rodney barked out an approximation of a laugh.  “Gee,” he scoffed, “I wonder what it could be?  It’s not like I’m dealing with anything particularly stressful or traumatic right now.”

Lam purse her lips in a way that Rodney hadn’t seen in awhile, in the way that usually meant someone was trying not to lower themselves to his level and snap back.  It’s a look that he hadn’t seen in Atlantis for at least two years, the people there having long accepted his bite as standard.  It was surprisingly hurtful to see the look again.

“Look,” he tried to soften his voice but it came out more weary than reasonable, “I’m sorry but I can’t deal with this right now.  I have to call my sister and let her know I’m back, I need to get an update on the house that I bought while I was in another galaxy that is apparently crawling with workmen who I need to be sure are following my orders to the letter and - - look, I promise that I’m not about to drop down on your watch.”

“You better not,” O’Neill’s drawl caused Rodney’s hackles to rise.  “You got any idea how much paperwork that would cause.  Hey, Doc,” he said to Lam, “why don’t you let me take McKay off your hands for a bit.  You can poke and prod him again after he’s eaten.  I’ve been told that improves his mood.”

Lam looked unconvinced but a look from Jack had her nodding and stripping off her gloves.  Jack turned his gaze to Rodney and forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.  “You like lemon chicken, right?”

-*-*-*-

The SGC mess hall was better stocked that Atlantis’, Rodney would have to give them that much at least.  O’Neill hadn’t been joking about the lemon chicken being on the menu but both he and the server that Rodney had grilled assured him that its appearance today was a coincidence; the menu for the week having been set long before they knew that Rodney was coming.

The salad was a more than acceptable alternative as Rodney revelled in the taste of real tomatoes and crisp lettuce, even if the way O’Neill was staring at him over the table was putting him off his appetite.

“What?” he snapped.  

Jack shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee.  “Nothing I can ask you about,” he said cryptically.  “So, the house.”

Rodney swallowed a mouthful of salad and nodded.  “The house,” he agreed.  “You said it would be done the day after tomorrow?”

“That’s what Sam told me. That’s a lot of money you’re laying down on something that’s only gonna be needed for a few months.”  Jack held his hands out as Rodney glared at him.  “Hey, I’m just repeating what the docs told me.  Personally, I think if anyone can defy their expectations it’s Sheppard.  But..I also know that he needs to _want_ to fight for it and I’m not sure that he does.”

Rodney pushed his plate away, his hunger gone.  “I can fight enough for both of us,” he said defiantly, daring O’Neill to disagree.

Jack sighed.  “That’s getting a little too close to you telling me something I’m not supposed to know.  I guess I don’t need to wonder about why you would do this any more. Your resignation surprised a lot of people, McKay.  Including me.  I should have believed Carter when she said that you’ve changed.”

“Yes, yes,” Rodney muttered.  “Because I was such an awful person.  I’ve heard it all before, General, and I’m not really in the mood to hear it again.  Just say whatever you have to say so I can leave.”

Jack smiled.  “I was ordered to do whatever it takes to get you to change your mind,” he said.  “They even gave me these damn brochures for care homes to show you.”  Jack gestured to the unopened manila folder sat on the table next to his coffee cup.  “But I’ve seen the plans for that house you bought, and I’ve seen you chew out an entire medical team on Sheppard’s behalf when the man won’t even look at you.”

“So,” Rodney asked, “what happens next?”

“What happens next,” Jack speared one of Rodney’s tomatoes with his fork, “is that you try not to terrorise my people too much, I’ll get you access to a non-networked computer so you can terrorise the contractors instead and in forty--” he looked at his watch -- "five hours, Walter will have a car ready to take you to your new home.  You know, if the contractors haven’t burned it down out of spite.”  

Rodney watched as O’Neill popped the stolen tomato in his mouth.  “As easy as that?” he asked.

“Oh, there’s nothing easy about what you’re doing,” Jack said.  “But I know what it’s like to have a team and I, well, let’s just say that there are things I can’t tell you that mean I understand exactly why you have to do them anyway.”

Rodney snorted.  If O’Neill thought he and Jackson were fooling anyone, they were sadly mistaken.  Still, he appreciated the sentiment even if he would never like the man for his part (or lack thereof) in the whole Siberia thing.

“So,” Rodney stood, “about that computer.”

-*-*-*-

Jeannie reacted about as well as Rodney expected her to at the news that Rodney was back on Earth, going from suspicious to cautiously pleased to heartbroken in the same time it took Rodney to make it through two sentences.  She offered him the help that he badly wanted but couldn’t accept which somehow made things a little better.  He promised to come visit, after.  Neither of them needed to clarify what he meant.

The contractors he’d hired seemed surprisingly competent and he made a mental note to thank Sam for sourcing them, although he expected Harriman had a hand in the actual leg work.  Now that he was no longer on the payroll, he couldn’t email Atlantis directly but he drafted up a note to say that they arrived safely which he would forward on to someone who could send it on.  He’d be reliant on Sam and Daniel to pass messages back and forth from now on and the sudden wave of homesickness at that realisation threatened to bowl him over.

John woke up not long after he hung up with the contractors and Rodney helped him up to the bathroom, standing outside the ajar door ready to leap into action if needed.  John glared at him the entire time, somehow managing to look dangerous while hobbling slowly towards the reclining chair that had been propped with support pillows.

They managed to make it through a bowl of stew, a serving of jello, and half an episode of Columbo without John saying a single word before John seemed to drift off again.

Rodney could tell he was faking.  He’d spent enough time sleeping next to John to know the pattern of his breathing but, honestly, the effort to carry the conversation singlehandedly was exhausting so he let it go without comment.  

Rodney pulled the laptop towards him and started to browse the music loaded on it.  Finding what he was looking for, he set Johnny Cash to play quietly before sitting the laptop on the high table next to John’s chair.

Rodney pretended not to notice the way John’s eyes cracked open an inch in surprise as he walked past him towards the bathroom. Rodney shut the door and sank down to the floor.  Johnny Cash was singing, telling him not to look so sad, and Rodney laughed hysterically, a single tear falling from his eye.  

_ Life goes on, and this old world will keep on turning. _

_Yeah_ , Rodney thought, _right_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that was playing at the end there was [For The Good Times](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m0ExU0Sup5g) which is pretty much my new go to song for this fic (or at least this part of it, it will get less sad, I promise!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope and Despair

"Why are we here?"

It wasn't that Rodney didn't appreciate the check up; after three weeks of living in that house - a house that would never wear the mantle of home - Rodney was more than ready for a break. The house had been finished on time, impeccably altered for John's needs. That had been the only bit of light in the past three weeks.

John had taken one look at the adjustments; the wide doorframes for wheelchair access, the handrails in the bathroom, the swivel bath seat that would allow to get in and out of the bath without help, the alarm pull cords in every room and, if possible, had shut Rodney out even further. Three weeks of silence, of defiance. Three weeks of John fighting Rodney on every little convenience.

Two weeks since Rodney had woken up from a fitful sleep to find John lying where he'd fell, halfway between the bed and the bathroom, his face lined in embarrassment and his pyjama bottoms soaked through. Rodney had picked him up, cleaned him up and gotten him ready for the day without a word, too scared of what he'd say if he started to unleash the frustration and pain that was building up inside. John had used the call system at 2 am the next night to wake Rodney which somehow didn't feel like much of a victory.

Three days since a frustrated and angry John had landed a lucky elbow shot on Rodney's eye as he tried to wave off Rodney's help in getting to his chair. The quiet, choked apology John had uttered at Rodney's cry of pain were the first words that John had spoken to him since Atlantis.

So, _yes_ , Rodney appreciated the break. He appreciated Daniel offering to stay in the house with John, appreciated Sam taking him out for a meal that wasn't soft and bland enough for John's stomach, but he really wanted to know _why_.

"What?" Sam answered. "I can't check up on a friend?"

"We were never friends."

"Well, maybe I thought you could use one." She jerked her head up to indicate the fading bruise around his eye. "What happened there?"

Rodney fought the urge to touch it, Carson's oft-repeated advice to let things heal and to s _top bloody poking at it, ye idiot, of_ course _it'll hurt if you keep at it_ , ringing in his head. He shrugged instead, lifting his drink (an ice water, no lemon, God, he wished it was a beer) to his mouth and swallowing. "It's nothing," he said. "An accident."

"Carolyn is worried about you, you know. We all are."

"It's not me you need to be concerned about. Or has the SGC already forgotten John? Swept under the carpet like all the other mistakes, hmm?"

"Rodney, you know it's not like that."

"Do I?" Rodney hissed, quietly seething. "Tell me then. Tell me exactly what the SGC have been doing to try and fix him? I know Carson's asked for resources to study the process, to find out how it works; if it can be reversed. I also know that he's always been told that it's not a priority, told to focus on other things, like finding a way to wipe them out. Because why waste time saving the lives of their victims when you can concentrate on getting rid of them altogether, right? It's the military way after all."

Rodney was both ashamed and vindicated to see Sam's cheeks flush at the accusations. The shame won out after a second and he sighed, rubbing the palm of his hand across his cheek.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to take it out on...it's been a long month."

Sam nodded too quickly, her eyes directed at the table. "I get it, McKay. I know that I'd probably feel the same way if it was Jack or Daniel or Teal'c. I - " Sam broke off as the waiter approached with their meal, the two of them sitting in an awkward silence until he left. "Why don't we eat and talk about this later?" she offered. "You look like you could use a decent meal and I never thought I'd say that about you."

Sam's attempt at levity was dismal but, starved for entertainment as he was, Rodney smiled at it. It was true that he had dropped a few pounds, maybe more than a few. A diet of soup and stew combined with the strain of hefting John around and the strain of, well, everything, had succeeded where Carson's lectures had failed.

He agreed with Sam's suggestion and tucked into the plate of lasagna, trying very hard not to think about how John would never get the chance to eat out like this again. 

They passed the meal in a safe small talk, discussing the latest physics papers and chuckling over how wrong they were.

Sometimes, for as long as twenty seconds at a time, Rodney could forget about everything else and enjoy the good food and good conversation. Even that temporary reprieve couldn't last as the last crumbs were cleared from dessert and Sam's face got serious.

"You up for a walk McKay?"

_John will never be able to walk for pleasure again_ , his traitorous mind piped up.

"Yeah," he answered, "sure." 

The air outside was cold, with a bite that made Rodney wish for gloves. He stuffed his hands in the pocket of his leather jacket, _John's leather jacket_ , and made do with grumbling. Sam smiled into her scarf and led them away from the Thursday evening crowds to a quieter street.

"You ready to finally tell me why you're here?"

Sam pursed her lips and they walked a few more steps before she answered.

"What if I were to tell you that there might be a way to reverse what happened to John?"

Rodney almost lost his footing on the concrete sidewalk but recovered, trying very hard to keep his cool. "If you had a way to reverse it, you would be using it on John right now instead of sitting through an awkward meal with me."

"We don't have it right now," Sam admitted, "but there's a chance. A good chance."

Rodney felt his heart start to beat faster as hope started to spur it on.

"It's come to Atlantis' attention that Wraith can feed energy back into people as well as take it."

Rodney stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, not quite believing what he was hearing. "That's...we would have heard...how?"

Sam's face twinged in sympathy. "We don't know, not for sure. At the moment it's just intel but Atlantis are working on verifying it."

"Intel from who?" Rodney demanded.

Sam grimaced. "Wraith worshippers."

"Wraith WORSHIPPERS?" Rodney threw his hands up in disgust. "Since when do we take the word of _Wraith worshippers_?"

"They were friends of Ronon's. Survivors from Sateda." She held her hands out in appeasement. "We're trying to verify the information ourselves but, Rodney, if it's true..."

"Oh, what?" Rodney spat. " _If_ it's true and _if_ Atlantis can capture a Wraith alive and _if_ they can figure out how to make the Wraith do it..." he broke off, taking deep breaths before continuing more sedately. "That's a lot of _if_ , Colonel. John can't count on that. _I_ can't count on that."

Sam reached out to touch his shoulder and Rodney flinched back. He hadn't been touched by John in so long, it felt wrong to have someone else's hands on him, even if it was just on his shoulder. Sam stepped back, her lips thin. "I thought a little hope might help. I thought you should at least know that there was...something, no matter how.." Sam trailed off with a sad smile.

Nodding, Rodney started to walk forward again. "I..appreciate it." His face paled as a thought suddenly occurred to him. "Wait, Daniel isn't telling John this, is he? Because you can't...I can't give him hope then - -"

"No!" Sam rushed to assure him. "Daniel won't say anything to him. We agreed, _Jack agreed_ , that it was up to you to decide. Did you know that John had you listed as his medical proxy?"

"Yeah," Rodney sighed. "We made that change a while ago, after - well, it made sense given the, ah, the - "

"I get it," Sam smiled. "I've had some practice deciphering that sort of babble before."

Rodney let himself smile. "They know they're not fooling anyone right?"

Sam's laugh didn't quite reach her eyes, which were still looking at Rodney far too seriously. "It's the worst-kept secret under the mountain," she agreed before stopping to meet Rodney's eyes, her eyes lingering on the bruised flesh and the lines that weren't there the last time she saw him "McKay. Are you...are you holding up ok with all this? Really?"

Rodney had gotten good at lying. To Carolyn, to Carson, to Jeannie, to himself.

"I'm fine."

-*-*-*-

"I hope you guys didn't get up to too much - -" Rodney's faux-jovial greeting dried to dust in his mouth as he walked into the lounge. "What the hell is this?" he demanded.

Daniel jumped up from his place on the couch, gathering up the brochures that were spread over the coffee table. "It isn't what...look, he asked to see them. I - I - he should be allowed a say in the time he has left."

"Get out." Rodney felt himself trembling in a barely suppressed rage.

"If you would just listen to him - -"

"Daniel, _leave it_." Sam's warning came sharp and clear. "Let's just - we should go." She pulled him out of the house by the arm, Daniel's mouth running off the entire time.

"I was giving him a choice. He doesn't want to be here. McKay, you don't have to do this. It isn't fair on either of you. If you would just look at at the facilities that could - -"

" _Daniel!_ " Carter raised her voice and cut through his babbling. "Imagine if you were in Rodney's position. What if it was Jack?"

Daniel paled. "That's different. Jack and I are diff - _oh_. Sheppard and - oh."

"Get him out of her before I do something we all regret," Rodney told Sam.

"McKay - I - "

"Jesus, not now Daniel," Sam muttered. "We're going. I'm sorry. I'll speak to you soon ok?" Sam threw him one last apologetic look before they both disappeared, Rodney slamming the door closed behind them.

He stood facing the door, breathing heavily, trying to get his heart rate under control.

"I can't do this anymore."

For a brief moment, Rodney thought the words had come from him, that he had finally voiced the thought that plagued his mind every time John looked at him with nothing in his eyes.

Until John spoke again.

"I hate this. I hate every second of this. I hate what's happened to me but I hate what it's doing to you more. I can't...Rodney. Please."

Rodney didn't turn around, couldn't. He swallowed against the lump in his throat, his rage giving over to grief. When he was sure that he could speak without his voice breaking he cleared his throat.

"I'll call tomorrow and arrange some visits. You need some help getting to bed or can you manage yourself?"

John's answer was slow to come. "I can manage myself. Rodney - -"

"Good. That's good. Well, you know where I am if you need me. I think I'm gonna turn in myself. It's been a long - well. Goodnight, Colonel."

Rodney imagined that he heard John sigh unhappily as he walked past, even imagined that John called out after him but the reality was silence.  Always silence. Rodney sat on the edge of his bed, poised and ready to move if he heard even the hint of John struggling but, although his progress was slow and tenuous, John made it to bed without incident. Then and only then did Rodney let himself slump down in defeat.

Maybe this was the right thing to do. Maybe he had been kidding himself. Hell, if he was thinking about maybes, maybe Atlantis would pull another miracle and fix this.

He wanted to believe that; with all of his breath, he wanted to believe that.

Faith wasn't something that Rodney had left. Not anymore.

He lay awake for a long time before sleep claimed him, trying to stave off tomorrow.

A tomorrow when he would lose John all over again.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodney and John visit a nursing home. It goes as well as you would expect.

Rodney blinked awake from a nightmare, his heart racing a mile a minute in his chest. Peering at the blinking red lights of the alarm clock revealed that it was almost time to get up which at least meant that he'd managed to sleep for longer than three hours. Little victories were all he had left these days.

He fumbled at the nightstand for the aspirin bottle, dry swallowing two chalky pills before swinging his legs over the side and slotting his feet into the waiting slippers.

The bed that came with the room was large, far larger than any on Atlantis, but Rodney only ever occupied the smallest space on it. Ten months seemed too short a time to have become conditioned to sharing a bed with someone, yet, every night Rodney's body ached for the weight of John next to him. What would have been John's space in the bed (always the side closest to the nearest entrance - not caring if it was left or right despite Rodney's vociferous objection to sleeping on the right) was littered with empty power bar wrappers, a gently humming laptop on standby and a dime store detective novel that one of the contractors must have left behind. Strangely, the clutter only emphasised the emptiness of the bed.

Ignoring all that, Rodney stretched the kinks out of his back and made his way heavily towards the bathroom. Any remnants of the nightmare were gone by the time the shower was running, leaving only the far too real memory of John's screams as the Wraith fed from him in their place.

Freshly showered and dressed, Rodney poured himself a cup of coffee and waited for John's morning routine to be finished. Back in Atlantis, he'd often joked about how long John spent in front of a mirror trying to get his hair looking like that. Funnily enough, when he started spending mornings with John, it turned out that the time - while as lengthy as Rodney had always joked - was spent trying to flatten the spikes rather than creating them. John's new morning routine took a hell of a lot longer.

Rodney tried to stay out of it as much as possible, except in those days when John woke up in too much pain to move, leaving John with as much independence as he could but that wasn't to say he didn't do everything in his power to make John's mornings a bit easier.

John's bed was as close to the bathroom door as it could get, the bed capable of rising to a seated position at the touch of a button, to help John get out more easily. The bathroom itself was ergonomically designed by Rodney himself. He knew John's morning routine by heart, knew the order that he did things, the order ingrained into John after years in the military. The layout of the bathroom was designed specifically to John's routine, ensuring that he had to do as little moving around as possible.

Dressing was a challenge. Rodney hadn't ever given much thought to how much bending and contorting was involved in getting dressed until Carson talked him through it.

During their two day stay in the mountain, Rodney had spent one of John's naps buying out the entire dressing aid section of a specialist online shop. These aids had been left on John's bed beside his laptop when they moved in, the screen queued up with numerous different YouTube tutorials on how to use them. John had only whacked himself with his dressing stick six times before he bit the bullet and watched the videos.

The simple act of showering and dressing was often enough to exhaust John so Rodney always made sure that his wheelchair, customised in shades of black, was sitting waiting in John's room. The days when John came wheeling into the kitchen rather than shuffling painfully were rare but often enough that Rodney made sure it was always an option.

John and the wheelchair made an appearance as Rodney finished his third coffee of the morning. He wasn't surprised to see it today, John may push past his limits regularly but he knew where they lay and touring Clearwater View Nursing Home (the most well reviewed leaflet in the pack that Daniel had left) was so far past both of their limits it might as well have been back in the Pegasus galaxy.

Rodney poured some warming oatmeal into a bowl and placed the bowl, a glass of milk, a straw and a spoon on the table next to John. If John picked up the spoon then he was judging his arm strong enough to manage feeding himself but if he picked up the straw instead, it meant that Rodney would be needed for feeding duty.

Rodney wasn't sure if it was easier for John, asking for help without having to say the words, or if he was just encouraging the silence thing. As long as it worked, he didn't care.

John wordlessly settled the straw in the milk and Rodney scooted his chair closer, picked up the spoon and started the process of feeding John breakfast in silence.

-*-*-*-

Clearwater View nursing home was thirty miles from the nearest body of water and had no views to speak of. That was more than enough for Rodney to hold against it but he had resolved to go into this visit with an open mind.

His mind closed with a snap when the Director of the home, an overly sweet and cloying brunette with lipstick on her teeth, bent over at the waist and addressed John like he was a toddler.

"He's old, not mentally deficient," Rodney snapped.

The woman, Rodney had already forgotten her name, straightened up with a pained smile. "Of course, Dr. McKay," she simpered. "My apologies." The apology was directed to him rather than John which made Rodney's left eye start to twitch. "Why don't I show you and Mr Sheppard the facilities?"

"Its Colonel Sheppard," John stated, his tone indicating he was just as fond of this harpy as Rodney was.

"Oh, well, isn't that nice for you," she said, dismissively. "This way, please."

Rodney knew better than most people that not everyone or everything in life made a good first impression, but every passing second of their tour was making it more and more clear that this was the wrong place for John.

He could see John's posture getting tighter and tighter with each turn of a corner; here was the communal recreation room with not a games console in sight, the rooms that more closely resembled a hospital room than a place to live, the insipid elevator music that poured from speakers high up near the ceilings.

Clearwater View looked like nothing more than what it was; a place where people were left to die. John's body may have aged to its limit but his mind was still vibrant and vital and perfect and - - he didn't belong here. He belonged with Rodney, for as long as he could. John had to see that, right?

"It looks great, when can I move in?"

The Director's face broke out in a satisfied smile (no doubt already spending the substantial fee) and Rodney felt something break inside.

Whirling John's wheelchair around (almost knocking over a lily filled vase in the process), Rodney gestured around the sterile corridors with horror. "You can't be serious?" he cried. "Here? You want to stay here? With the cast of a Romero movie? With _her_?"

Rodney saw the Director flinch out of the corner of his eye and waved a half hearted apology. "I'm sure you're a lovely person, yadda yadda. Not the point." He turned back to look at John. "The point is that you _have_ a home. With me."

"Dr. McKay, perhaps you and I should talk. I understand that you want to help your grandfather but - -"

"My _grandfather_?" Rodney laughed meanly. "He's not my grandfather, he's the man I love. My boyfriend, my partner, my lover, my - - ok, well, not husband but we would have gotten there eventually but" he deflated, "...he's my everything."

The Director, as well as a hoard of onlookers who'd been attracted by Rodney's yelling, stood in stunned silence, Rodney's heavy breathing the only noise in the quiet hall.

"Director Thomson, is there somewhere that Dr. McKay and I can speak privately?"

The woman, John always was better at remembering names - it was one of the many reasons they worked, looked relieved to be shot of them as she ushered them into an empty bedroom. "Take your time," she rushed. "I'll just be, ah," the door closed on her stumbling words, leaving John and Rodney alone.

"Well, I think you just weirded out an entire nursing home," John stated, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Talk about a May/December relationship."

"I don't care about them. I care about _you_. You don't belong here, John," Rodney collapsed onto the uncomfortable hospital bed, his pulse still racing but his voice small.

" _You_ don't belong here," John argued. "You belong on Atlantis. Look, Rodney..." John took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I know that I've not been fair to you but there isn't anything about this situation that's fair."

"John, -"

"No. Let me speak."

Rodney nodded quietly, trying to get his breathing under control. He felt like he'd ran a marathon, John always had been able to get under his skin like that.

"I don't have long left, Carson never hid that from me. And I get what you're trying to do, I do, but you don't have to. This place is - - I've been through worse. And, ok, some of that was as a prisoner, but it's not forever. It's not even for a long time. In a few months, I'll be gone and you'll have to move on without me. You should get a start on that while you can."

John's words were like a physical pain in his chest, radiating out from the centre and down his arm. He rubbed at his shoulder absently.

"You're still young," John said. "You could meet someone else, start a family. I know that you always wanted kids. You'd be an amazing - - I'm not worth putting yourself through this. You know, I always thought that blonde in the infirmary had a thing for you. Keller. You should ask her out."

"Keller," Rodney wheezed, "she's barely out of college."

John's smile was still the same as ever. "Better a cradle robber than a grave robber," he joked.

Rodney stood up, dizzy from the anger that was pounding through his veins. "Oh, what," he snarled. "You joke now? After weeks of silence and misery and nothing I do ever being right? I have bent over backwards to make this as easy on you as possible, you think you're gonna get that here? You think they're gonna let you - gonna let you - I mean, I - -"

" _Rodney_?"

John's voice rang out in concern and alarm but it was unimportant and far away. Rodney's focus was tunnelling down to nothing, the view rapidly changing as he felt his legs crumple beneath him until he was looking at the carpet fibres and noticing absently that the place could do with a deep clean.

The thump of his body hitting the ground (and shouldn't he be concerned about that?) was followed by another, less immediate, thump. He felt hands press at his chest, his face; he heard someone yelling for help, someone ordering him to hold on.

The voice sounded familiar but strangely odd, old and thin instead of warm and drawling.

Rodney tried to follow the order. Holding on was important, wasn't it? He had someone to hold on for, didn't he? But he was so tired, so heavy, and the black was so warm. It seemed easier to let his eyes close. The last thing he heard before the blackness took him was someone screaming 'No'. He wanted to tell them that it was alright, that he would see them soon but it was too much effort. Floating was easier.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look at that, we have a chapter count now! Half way there! 
> 
> (And the angst is almost at an end)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two miracles.

Rodney's eyelids were heavy as he tried to lift them. His years in the Pegasus Galaxy had left him no stranger to the distorted, gummy feeling that came with waking up from a period of unconsciousness - an experience that was wholly different to waking from a restful sleep - and he could tell just from the weight of his eyelids that this had been a bad one.

When the memories came crashing back he found himself surprised that he had woken up _at all_. He'd always expected that a heart attack would be his end, lord knows Carson had warned him often enough to cut back on the coffee and the sugar, never mind the _stress_. Rodney took his time in coming back to awareness, enjoying the steady, familiar beep of a heart monitor in his ears, _reassuring and alive_ , and the quiet shuffling that meant John was probably sleeping in a chair beside him... _John_...the steady beep of the monitors started to sound closer together as his mind tripped on the memory of John; aged and angry and - _oh god_ \- he had heard a thump after he fell, what if that was John? What if he -

"Dr. McKay, Rodney! You need to calm down."

"C'mon, McKay, Vala just fixed your damn ticker, the least you can do is wait more than a day before breaking it again."

Rodney's eyes cracked open to see General O'Neill and Dr. Lam standing over him. Looking around, he recognised the walls of the SGC infirmary. Letting his head thunk back on the pillow, he swallowed against a painfully dry throat.

"Where's John?" he croaked.

O'Neill handed him a white paper cup filled with ice chips and sighed. "I swear to God, the two of you are as nutso as each other. Sheppard's fine. No thanks to your little cardiac event. You know he broke a hip throwing himself onto the floor to save your ass?"

Dr. Lam pushed Jack out of the way as Rodney started to rise from the bed at O'Neill's words, pushing him back down before he could get up and look for John. "Not a chance," she said. "You are _not_ leaving this bed until I say so and I _don't_ say so. Colonel Sheppard is fine, Vala healed his hip without breaking a sweat. You, on the other hand, left her with a hell of a headache. I'd stay out of her way for a while."

"Heal? What?" Rodney rubbed his chest, realising that he wasn't in any pain.

"Oh, for crying out loud, have another ice chip," O'Neill ordered. "You had a massive heart attack in the middle of a completely unsuitable for Sheppard nursing home - I hope you appreciated the recommendation on that one by the way - Sheppard broke his hip trying to keep your dramatic ass alive long enough for the staff there to call for help. Of course, it came to our attention so we intercepted the call, brought you here and," he turned to Lam, "why did Vala agree to help them again?"

Lam blushed. "She caught sight of Dr. McKay's gluteus maximus and declared it would be a shame to deprive the galaxy of such a fine specimen."

O'Neill snorted. "Yeah, that."

Rodney was still having trouble processing, a common side effect of almost dying, and found his mind stuck on something O'Neill had said. "You sent us to that place on purpose?"

O'Neill smirked. "Danny was making noises about the injustice of it all before he came over to Sheppard sit for you, so I might have stacked the leaflets with some duds." He shrugged. "It worked, right? He's staying with you?"

Rodney shook his head, the memory of their fight making him miserable.

"Huh," O'Neil hummed. "That's not the impression he gave me when he was yelling at us all to save you before he beat us with his walking stick. That wheelchair packs a hell of a punch by the way. You might want to revisit that topic." He reached out to awkwardly pat Rodney on the shoulder before turning towards the door. "Glad to see you're still alive, McKay," he called over his shoulder. "You can invite me and Daniel for dinner sometime soon to thank us. Toodles." O'Neill waved his fingers in farewell and Rodney wondered, not for the first time, exactly how the man had made it to General.

Rodney turned towards Lam. "John -"

"Will be back from x-ray in a few minutes," she interrupted. "Vala did a perfect job. With _both of you_." She looked at him, assessing him as if he were the x-ray. Rodney could see her notice and file away every pound he had lost, the circles under his eyes and he squirmed uncomfortably under her gaze, feeling about two inches tall. " _Don't_ let it get this bad again," she cautioned. "And don't think I haven't already written up the notes to send to Carson in the next data burst." She smiled at Rodney's groan. "Chin up, it could be worse. _He_ could be the one treating you instead of me."

With that awful thought, Dr. Lam left the room, promising to return _afterwards_ , whatever that meant.

John came walking into the room a few minutes later as promised, leaning heavily on Carter's arm the entire time but still walking under his own speed, moving much easier than Rodney had seen him move in weeks.

John's face collapsed in relief when he saw Rodney sitting up in the bed, his breath stuttering like he was breathing for the first time.

Carter hovered nearby as John sat down in the chair beside Rodney's bed and watched them sit in heavy silence for a moment before she sighed, throwing her hands in the air. "Yeah, fine, I'm going with Jack's plan. I'll see you boys later."

Before Rodney could ask what she meant, she was out the room and closing the door behind her with a distinct snip sound that - -

"I think she just locked us in," John said mildly.

Rodney sighed. "Sounds about right. Hey, you're in the Air Force, can you explain to me how someone like O'Neill made General? Because, honestly, someone who locks people in infirmaries and disobeys orders as many times as he did should have been kicked out years ago. It's even more improbable than your hair. I mean - "

John cut through Rodney's babbling with a pained " _Rodney_."

"What is it? Are you alright? Is it your hip? Because I'm not sure how much I trust someone with that much cleavage with your health."

"My _hip_?" John shook his head in angry disbelief. "My damn _hip_ is fine. Think she even sorted out my arthritis there but who the hell cares about my _hip_? You almost died, Rodney. _Died_."

Rodney swallowed thickly. " _I_ care about your hip," he said quietly.

John huffed a laugh, still as ugly and wonderful a sound as ever. "You know what, Rodney? Let's just go home."

"Home?"

John nodded. "Home. It's not Atlantis but, it has you. That's good enough."

-*-*-*-

After some judicious pleading with Sam to open the door and what seemed like a million tests, Lam finally deigned to release Rodney from the infirmary, with the promise of a follow-up home visit in three days.

Home. Such a small word. Rodney had never really understood it's true meaning before John, before Atlantis. Looking at the house that he hoped to share with John for as long as they had left, he realised that this _was_ home. Who knew all it would take was a massive heart attack to make him sentimental?

Despite his newly healed hip, John was flagging as they pulled up at the house. Rodney was trying to work out a way that he could offer the wheelchair without being obvious about it when John's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Can you get my chair? I don't think I'm up to the walk right now."

Rodney nodded quickly, accepting the help of the random marine that O'Neill had sent to drive them home to get the chair out the trunk.

"You, ah, you want me to push?" he asked awkwardly.

John nodded tightly and Rodney went through the familiar motions of getting him settled in the chair. He knew how hard it must be for John to ask for help, knew what it was costing him to say the words aloud, or even just nod his head. Dismissing the marine with an absent wave of thanks, Rodney pushed John up the path towards the front door.

An awkward second of silence as they entered the house was broken by the rumbling of Rodney's stomach.

"I should probably get something to eat before bed," he muttered. "Did they feed you at the SGC? I probably should have asked before. I don't even know how long I was out for."

"Eight hours." John grimaced. "You were out for eight hours. I thought - -"  John broke off into silence.

"Is that a yes on the food then?" Rodney chose to ignore the bigger issue and focus on the more immediate one.

"I'm not hungry," John admitted. "But I should probably eat. Carson warned me about a lack of appetite and making sure that I still ate."

Rodney snorted, already rummaging through the cupboards. "I think I got that lecture too. You know, I'm surprised he didn't just make me write _'I will not neglect John Sheppard_ ' fifty times." Turning around, he held out a packet of instant macaroni. "This do?"

"We're going shopping tomorrow and getting some healthier food in," John glared. "Egg whites, spinach, oily fish. ' _I will not neglect Rodney McKay._ ' Not again."

"You know this wasn't your fault, right?"

John shifted in his chair, avoiding eye contact.

" _John_ ," Rodney swore, "if you're only agreeing to stay here because you feel guilty then...look, there are other nursing homes. We can try another one. I won't stop you." Those words cost Rodney something but he meant every syllable.

John just shook his head. "It's not guilt. It's pure and utter selfishness." He smiled sadly. "I thought I was strong enough to let you go but I'm not ready."

"I'm not going anywhere," Rodney promised. Trying to lighten the mood, he shook the packet of macaroni. "And one less than nutritious meal isn't going to change that."

The conversation turned to safer topics as Rodney readied their late dinner and ate. John managed most of his meal himself, his arm shaking only slightly by the time he was done. "Should have asked Vala to look at that too," Rodney joked.

"There's no cure for old age."

Rodney resolutely didn't think about the possible cure that Atlantis were pursuing; he wouldn't let himself, he certainly wouldn't let John. They'd already lived through a medical miracle today, the chance of another miracle was...well, Rodney didn't have to be an idiot to calculate those odds.

Clearing away the plates, Rodney left them to soak in the sink. The thought of washing dishes after the day he'd had was too much, he'd get around to them tomorrow. Hell, maybe he'd throw them out and buy new dishes. Life was too short to waste at a sink.

"I'm ready for this day to be over," he sighed.

"Bed sounds good," John agreed, then hesitantly asked, "Help me get changed?"

Rodney nodded, following John into his bedroom and helping with the more awkward parts of getting undressed and then dressed again.

"You're getting better with that thing," Rodney said, indicating the dressing stick that John used to hook the hem of his shirts and to pull up his trousers without contorting painfully.

John smiled before turning serious. "I never thanked you for getting them. I never thanked you for any of it."

Rodney waved him off. "It was nothing you wouldn't have done for me. _Right_?" Rodney felt weak and pathetic for asking but John's words from back in Atlantis still resonated with him.

_"I wouldn’t do it for you. “If you were lying here and I was sitting there....I wouldn’t do it for you.”_

"God, Rodney, of course, I would. I didn't mean...I was angry, I ..."

"John, it's OK. I know."

With John settled in bed, Rodney turned to leave.

"Rodney?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you stay here? Just for tonight. I...I close my eyes and I see you on the floor and...I know it's weird and it's... _I'm_...but, would you stay?"

Rodney closed the bedroom door and turned out the light in answer, stripping down to his boxers and t-shirt before slipping under the covers of John's bed.

"For as long as you want."

John's hand reached out to rest gently on Rodney's own. Rodney realised it was the first time they had touched in a non-practical way since that last mission. John's hand was different; smaller, rougher, weaker; but, God, it felt like home.

"I love you," John said quietly into the dark.

Rodney felt a tear leak out of his eye as he brought John's hand up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to it. "I love you, too."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to update quickly after that last chapter, sorry!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lam checks in on the boys and we check in on Atlantis

"Breathe in. And now out."

Rodney dutifully drew in a deep breath, letting it out with only the bare minimum of an exasperated sigh. "Is that it?" he asked Dr. Lam. "Can I put my shirt back on, now? Isn't it past time that someone invented one of those that works through clothing anyway?  What, we can travel to other galaxies but we can't manage that?"

Lam rolled her eyes and stood up. "You'll be glad to know that everything sounds perfect. If I hadn't been there when they brought you in, I wouldn't know anything had happened. You're a lucky man, Rodney."

"Of course it's perfect," Rodney snapped. "That's the whole point of the Tok'ra device. I could have told you that and saved you the journey."

Lam patted him on the shoulder. "I'm not just here to see you," she soothed. "John's up next. I want to get a reading on his kidney function, his numbers looked poor when I saw him last, and I thought I'd save you a trip to the mountain."

"His kidney...everything's all right, isn't it? Because things have been better. He's been asking for help, he's been eating more. I thought he was getting better."

Lam's crinkled look of sympathy did precisely nothing to soothe Rodney's worry. "He's doing remarkably well given the circumstances," she hedged. "But the fact remains that his body is wearing out. Look," she sighed, "I'm trying to give him as much time as I can - short of extraordinary measures - to let Atlantis figure this out. Carson is close to verifying the - -"

" _Would you keep your voice down_?" Rodney hissed, glancing at the closed door of John's (well, his and John's now) room where he was currently napping. "I'm not counting on that. And neither should you be."

"Rodney, don't you think John deserves to - - "

"I think John deserves to live whatever time he has left to the best of his ability." Rodney interrupted.

"Is that working out any better for you?" Lam asked, eyebrows raised.

"We went to the state fair last night," Rodney smiled. "Even rode a Ferris wheel. It was...it was nice."

"That's good. I'm happy for you both. But it doesn't change the fact that John is dying."

"Wow, you're a downer," John's sleep rough voice caused Lam to jump.

Both Rodney and Lam turned towards the sound, seeing John leaning heavily against the hand-crafted, ebony cane that Rodney had ordered online. John had laughed himself hoarse when he had found the hidden blade inside. His arms were too weak to properly swashbuckle with it but it was the thought that counted.

"Colonel Sheppard, I - -"

John waved her stammering apology off. "You're not telling either of us anything that we don't know," he said. "But there's a bury your head in the sand policy in operation here for the immediate future and you're in violation of it. So, what torture you got in store for me today?"

Lam pulled out a portable ancient scanner. "It'll be painless, I promise."

John made his way to the couch and sank gratefully onto the cushions. "Get it over with then," he sighed. "Rodney and I have plans for this evening."

"Oh?" Lam asked, even as Rodney groaned loudly.

"Don't remind me," Rodney grumbled.

"Hey," John teased, "how do you know you won't enjoy it unless you give it a go?"

"Enjoy what?" Lam asked, amused, as she waved the scanner over John's midsection.

"Monster trucks," John grinned, causing Lam to choke on an aborted attempt at laughter.  "I even got the senior discount."

"Yes, yes, very funny," Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "Let's see who'll be laughing when I drag you to the opera next week. And, by the way," he turned to Lam, "how come you didn't use that on me," he gestured to the ancient device. "That doesn't seem to have any trouble reading through clothes. You just wanted me shirtless, didn't you?"

"I missed Rodney shirtless?" John teased. "Damn."

Rodney's eyes widened as he looked between John and Lam, panicked. Seeing his distress, John snorted. "Come on, Rodney. I'm not exactly bound by the rules anymore, am I? Anyway, I'm pretty sure Carolyn here figured it out along with the rest of the SGC when the _thing_ happened."

Rodney's near death experience had been reclassified in the household as 'the thing'. Never let it be said that either of them didn't excel at avoiding uncomfortable subjects.

"Besides," John continued, "aren't O'Neill and Jackson coming aground for dinner on Friday? Pretty sure when the General and his boy toy invite themselves on a double date the cat's well and truly out the bag."

"Officially, I have no idea what you're talking about," Lam said as she packed the device away.

"See?" John assured Rodney. "It's fine."

"Is it fine?" Rodney asked Lam. "Not the me and...I mean, his kidneys? They're fine, right? Doing what kidneys are supposed to do?"

"They're..." Lam hesitated.

"Hey, am I gonna drop dead tomorrow?" John asked.

"Well, no."

"Then we don't need to know," John shrugged. "Right, Rodney?"

Rodney swallowed against the lump of fear in his throat, wishing with every fibre of his being that he could count on Atlantis to fix this. "Right."

-*-*-*-

Carson was dozing uncomfortably at his desk when Teyla's quiet knock disturbed him.

"My apologies, Dr. Beckett. I did not mean to disturb you."

"It's perfectly alright, lass," Carson assured her. "I was just resting my eyes. What can I do for you?"

Teyla gestured at the plate of food she held in front of her. "I thought you might be hungry. You appear to have worked through the day without stopping for sustenance again."

Carson smiled, accepting both the plate and the gentle rebuke. "That's very kind of you, Teyla. Thank you. I know that I'm not acting as the best of role models at the moment but..."

"I understand. We are, all of us, very motivated to help Colonel Sheppard." She edged into the room and nodded at the computer screen. "Has there been any further progress in your tests?"

Sighing heavily, Carson ripped a chunk of bread into pieces. "Nothing conclusive. Not yet. But I'm close, I can tell." Taking a forkful of the stew in his hand, Carson waved at the empty seat on the other side of his desk. "Care to join me?"

Teyla accepted his offer, folding herself gracefully into the chair. "You should take better care of yourself, Carson. We do not want what happened to Rodney to happen to you also."

Carson swore in Gaelic under his breath. "Ah, sorry, lass. I just...when I get my hands on him, I'm going to - -"

"Elizabeth assured us all he is well again. Is that not the case?"

"He's fine," Carson rushed to reassure her, hearing the concern in her voice. "Better than fine now actually, thanks to the Tok'ra healing device. But it was a near thing. Too near."

"This Tok'ra device," Teyla stumbled over the unfamiliar word, "it would seem to be a very useful device. I understand that it was also used to heal the Colonel of an injury. Is there no chance that - -"

"None, I'm afraid. The device willnae work on the systemic deterioration of Colonel Sheppard's organs. It's not designed for that. No, lass, it looks like our only hope is this." He gestured to to the tissue samples and simulations that littered his workspace.

Teyla nodded, expecting the answer. "I understand. Though I wish it were not so. Have you," she hesitated. "Have you heard anything further on how Dr. McKay and Colonel Sheppard are faring emotionally? I must confess that I am worried for them both. The anger in John before he left was so large. I believed they would eventually get past it but," she shook her head, "I fear that I may have been wrong. To have Rodney collapse in such a way, the stress must have been great."

Carson reached out to pat Teyla's hand, smiling warmly. "You can rest your mind," he said, remembering the other piece of good news that had been contained in Lam's latest data burst. "From what I've been told, they're managing much better. In some ways, I think Rodney's attack was the spur they needed to realise what was important; spending time together while they could. Although if you tell Rodney that I think anything about his heart attack was a good thing, I'll deny it with my every breath."

Teyla chuckled. "That is good to hear, Carson. And you're secret is safe with me." She stood up and smiled brightly at him. "It is getting late. I believe that I should retire to my quarters now." She cocked her eyebrow at him. "I trust that you will do the same?"

"Aye," he promised. "In a bit. I just have to - -"

The beeping of his computer signalled the end of the simulation and Carson paused as he cast his eyes over the results. "Bloody hell," he whispered, "its true.

"Dr. Beckett?"

Carson looked up from his screen to grin at Teyla, his excitement bubbling under his skin and chasing away any residual fatigue. "Teyla! It can be done," he babbled. "The Wraith. They can push energy back into their victims, just like Tyre said."

Teyla's eyes lit up with hope. "John?" she breathed.

"If we can get him here, if we can somehow capture a Wraith and - - it's a long shot but it's the best hope we have."

"How long does John have?" she asked. "Truthfully."

"Weeks", Carson admitted. "No more than a month."

Teyla nodded decisively. "Then we had better move quickly."

-*-*-*-

"Rodney? You asleep?"

Rodney blinked awake, he never slept deeply anymore, always attuned to John's sounds. "What's it?" he muttered sleepily. "You need help getting up?"

"No."

When John didn't speak further, Rodney frowned, coming awake more fully. Rolling over to face John, he propped himself up on his elbow. "John? What is it?"

"I want you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"When the time comes..."

"John."

"No, listen. When the time comes, I want you to let me go. And I want you to be happy. I want you to find someone else. Promise me."

Silence.

"You said anything. Promise me, Rodney. Please. Say it."

Rodney closed his eyes and collapsed back on to his pillow, helpless. "I promise."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a fluffy chapter but, honestly, this is not a fluffy fic. It felt weird trying to shoehorn happy John and Rodney into it. All the fluff will now be saved for the epilogue.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting on a Hail Mary

Rodney was surprised by how good the good days were.  The days when they could go about their new life like it was almost normal; their _new_ version of normal anyway.  On those days it was easy to see past the outside, to realise that John was still here, as bone-headed and stubborn and perfect as ever.  On those days, John cracked jokes with General O’Neill, comparing stories about the worst commanders they’d ever had while Rodney and Daniel glared at each other over a plate of pasta; or laughed at Rodney’s horror at the cheering hoards at the Monster Truck rally; or held Rodney’s hand tight while Rodney’s heart swelled at the sound of Bach played by someone who could really _feel_ the music in their soul.  On the good days, John worked on solving the Navier-Stokes equation, something that he had previously only fooled around with when he was hiding from the paperwork on Atlantis.  On those days, Rodney ranted and raved at him about wasting his mind on the Air Force and John shut him up by saying that if he hadn’t joined the Air Force, they would never have met.  On the good days, Rodney could pretend that, though everything was different now, everything was going to work out all right in the end.

The good days were getting farther and farther apart.

On the bad days, John slept too long, ate too little and Rodney was faced with the reality that he was going to lose him.

The knowledge that the Wraith could hold a possible salvation for John was less heartening than Sam thought it should be when she confirmed it.  For Sam and the others under the mountain who tried to bolster John and Rodney’s spirits on those bad days, the Wraith were just another enemy, no different from the Goa’uld or the Ori.  They didn’t understand how hard it would be, not to capture one (Rodney was fairly sure that Ronon could catch one in his sleep), but to reason with one.  They were cattle in the Wraith’s eyes, nothing more.  Cattle didn’t get very far reasoning with their slaughterer. 

On the bad days, John was too exhausted to get out of bed for anything and Rodney knew they were getting closer and closer to the day when he would be stuck in that damn bed until the end.

On the bad days, Rodney curled up on the bed next to John, wanting to be there for every second of wakefulness, content to watch him sleep, watch the rise and fall of his chest just for the proof that he was still there.  

-*-*-*-

“Hey, did I fall asleep again?”  

Rodney looked up from his own attempt to solve a Millennium prize and smiled.  “Just for a little bit.”  He nodded towards the TV.  “Game’s not even over.”

“Help me sit up so I can see it?”

Rodney smiled tightly, the realisation that John felt too weak to reach for the bed’s remote control sticking in his chest like a knife.  “Here you go,” he said as he leant over and pressed the button that would raise John into a sitting position.  “You need anything else?  Water?  Something to eat?”

John shook his head, no.  “Hey, perfect timing,” he said, jerking his head towards the TV where Doug Flutie made history by passing a weirdly shaped ball to Gerard Phelan.

“No wonder you fell asleep,” Rodney scoffed.  “How many times have you watched this game over the years?”

“Hey, don’t knock it,” John murmured.  “You know, it was the Hail Mary that made me really look at you for the first time?”

Rodney frowned.  “You’re telling me a college football game from the 1980s is the reason you’re with me?”

“No, dumbass.  Not that hail mary.   _Your_ hail mary.  Back on Atlantis.  With the energy monster thing.”

“ _That?_ ”  Rodney gaped at him.  “That was what got your interest?”

John laughed weakly, the sound tapering off into a cough.  “You were a big damn hero that day, McKay.  Saved us all.”

“I’m lucky it even worked at all,” he shook his head.

“Exactly.”  John smiled.  “A real Hail Mary.  Made me look at you as your own person instead of the person everyone else told me you were.  Best damn thing I ever did.”  John broke off into another coughing fit and Rodney reached over to the bedside table for the water, pouring a glass and holding it up to John’s mouth.

“Drink,” he demanded.  

John swallowed a mouthful or two of water before waving Rodney off.  “I’m good,” he said, breathing heavily.  “Just tired.”

Tired.  After sleeping twenty of the past twenty-four hours.  The only reason Rodney didn’t feel anything break inside was that there was nothing left to break.

“Get some more sleep,” he said, the words sounding lame and insincere even to him.  “Carson always said it was the best medicine, right?”

John’s eyes - god, they had never changed, they looked exactly the same as they always had, as indefinable a colour as ever - caught Rodney’s own and Rodney saw the truth in them.  A truth that neither one of them was ready to vocalise.  

“Yeah,” John sighed.  “Sleep would be good.”  He looked at Rodney, taking in the remains of a powerbar wrapper and the waiting laptop.  “You’ll be here?”

Rodney pressed a gentle kiss to John’s head.  “I’ll be here.”

-*-*-*-

Rodney wasn’t there when the collapse came.  

He was, of all things, doing the dishes, cleaning up after the measly three spoonfuls of broth that John had managed when he heard the crash.  

Racing through to the bedroom, Rodney found John passed out on the bed, the ceramic pitcher of water broken in shards across the floor.  It shouldn’t have been immediately obvious, the difference between sleep and unconsciousness, but it was evident in every line of John’s body and the beating of Rodney’s heart.

Fumbling for his phone, Rodney hit ‘L’ for Lam, sinking onto the floor, not caring that he was sitting in the middle of the water that had spilled or that the edge of a ceramic shard was cutting into the bare skin where his jeans ended.

Between what seemed like one blink and the next, their bedroom was filled with people.  It was only when he saw John’s prone form shifted from the bed to a waiting gurney that he snapped back into awareness, belatedly realising that Sam was sitting on the floor next to him with her arm around his shoulder, talking to him gently.

“John,” he muttered, trying to stand.  “I need to go with him.”

“Don’t worry, we’re taking him to the mountain,” Sam sounded relieved which made Rodney frown.  What the hell was there to be relieved about when John was dying?  Arguing with her seemed a waste of his resources though and he let her pull him out of the room, only because she was pulling him in the same direction as John had went.  “He’ll be in good hands there,” Sam continued, babbling nonsense.  “They’ll do everything they can for him, Rodney, I promise.  You just need to hold on for a bit longer, both of you.”

Rodney tuned her out, focusing instead on the medics pushing John’s gurney down the winding path of their garden and into the waiting ambulance.  “I wanna go with him,” he said, trying to extricate himself from Sam’s hold.

“Give them room to work,” Sam said, steering him towards her car.  “We’ll be right behind them the whole way. Nothing will happen to him in the next half an hour,” she soothed.  “I promise.”

The ambulance pulled off while he was struggling with her and Rodney sagged in defeat.  Turning to look at Sam, seeing the pity and guilt in her eyes, he flinched.  “If he dies before I get a chance to say goodbye,  I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

Deep down, Rodney knew he was being unfair but Sam didn’t even blink, just tightened her hold on him and smiled painfully.  “I know,” she said.  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

-*-*-*-

“I never told you what made me really look at you for the first time.”  The beeping of John’s heart monitor was slow and steady in his ear as Rodney sat at John’s bedside, holding his hand.  He didn’t care who saw; if the SGC could turn a blind eye for Jack and Daniel, it was only right that they extend the same courtesy to him and John.  And, if they didn’t?  It wasn’t like it was going to matter much soon anyway.

“I mean,” he continued, “of course I’d looked at you before.  You’re pretty easy on the eyes and you know it.  Even when you were just some spiky haired zoomie who sat on a chair he had no business even knowing about, you were beautiful.  And then you knew how many possible gate addresses there were from those symbols that Ford got and - - I started to daydream sometimes about you.  Not seriously, never seriously, but sometimes...the first time I looked at you as something more was when you were dying.”  Rodney snorted.  “Ironic, huh?”

He shifted in the chair, his eyes trailing the line of the IV that was delivering fluids to the man he loved.  That and the catheter were the only tubes that John was hooked up to. Anyone walking in could be forgiven for thinking the lack of tubes meant it wasn’t serious but Rodney had the dubious honor of knowing better.

Weeks ago, he’d watched John’s hand shake with effort as he signed his DNR.  No extraordinary measures.  Like John’s life hadn’t been made up of extraordinary measures.  Never leave a man behind.  It seemed like a joke now.

“You had that Iratus bug attached to your neck and we were half an hour away from vacuum and you wouldn’t let me give up.  You’d only known me a week and you believed that I could fix it.  I mean, you were right, of course, but no one had ever really believed in me like that before.”  Rodney shook his head.  “Now that I think about it, sending you through the event horizon was another kind of Hail Mary.  I guess we’ve had a lot of them.”

Rodney quieted as Dr. Lam came in to check on John.  He watched as she read his monitor and made indecipherable notes on his chart.  

Sighing, she turned to look at Rodney.  “Do you want an update?” 

“Just tell me how long,” he answered quietly. He didn’t need to clarify what he was counting down to.

“His kidneys and his liver are - -”

“ _How long_?” Rodney interrupted.  “That’s all that matters.”

Lam lifted her chin and looked Rodney dead in the eyes.  “A day,” she said.  “No more than two.”

Rodney nodded.  He had expected as much but it still hurt.  “Will he wake up before then?” 

“It’s possible.  But not likely.”  She looked at him with concern.  “You should get some rest.”

Rodney smiled.  “Not yet.”  He moved his chair closer to John’s bed and tightened his hold on John’s hand.  “Not yet.”

-*-*-*-

The plate that someone had brought him from the mess lay stone cold and barely touched when, hours later, John finally started to stir.

“Hey, John?  It’s me, I’m here.”  

Rodney stroked his hand across John’s sunken cheek as his eyes blinked open.  Rodney sucked in a breath as he saw the familiar hazel, duller than normal but still so clearly John.  

_ “R’ney.” _

“Yeah,” Rodney smiled weakly.  “I’m here.  Listen,” he swallowed, “you need to hold on.  OK?  Because I’ve been thinking about it and, and there’s _always_ a Hail Mary.  Every damn time.”

“ _R’ney_.”

“No, listen to me.  The Wraith can _restore_ life as well as take it.  Carson proved it and Atlantis are working on - - “

“I know.” John sighed.

“- - what?”  Rodney’s hand stopped in it’s frantic petting of John’s face.  “How could you possibly know..”  The obvious answer hit him and Rodney felt sick.  “No,” he breathed.

John swallowed painfully.  “Todd,” he said weakly.  “Th’wraith.  He told me he was gon’to give it back.  He needed it.  So we could escape but he was gonna give it back.”  John’s breaths were coming hard and fast, the words exhausting him and Rodney realised that he did have something inside left to break after all.

“We shot him,” his voice trembled.  “Before he could, while he was still...we shot him. _Oh God_.”

“Did’n know,” John comforted him.  “Couldn’t.  S’ok.”

Rodney shook his head, feeling sick.  “We know _now_ ,” he said.  “ _Atlantis_ know and they are working on finding another Wraith.  You just gotta hold on.  Please, John.  Hold on.”

John smiled.  “Le’go,” he shook his head.  “You promised.”

“I lied,” Rodney spat.  “Sue me.  Listen to me and follow orders for _once_ in your damn life and _hold on_.  If the damn Eagles can win at the last minute and if stepping into that damn energy cloud can work, this can too.  So you _need to hold on_.”

John drifted off without answering but his hand remained tightly entwined in Rodney’s own.  

That was good enough for now.  

Rodney sat back and waited on a Hail Mary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it's any consolation, I'm hurting myself with this fic too! Please remember the angst with a happy ending tag. Just one chapter and an epilogue to go!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a Hail Mary

A day.  No more than two.

John always had liked to flout expectations.  

Three days later and Rodney was still sitting in the same chair by the same infirmary bed.  He'd been persuaded to leave for half an hour stretches every eighteen hours or so to shower and change clothes but otherwise, he refused to be moved.  His back wouldn't be thanking him, no matter how nice the chair that Sam had 'borrowed' from Landry's office was,  but just the thought of missing John's last moment made him start to shake uncontrollably and made his breath start to whistle in his chest so Rodney dug his heels in.  He was there for the duration.

Even if it was starting to look like Lam's declaration that John wouldn't likely regain consciousness again was correct.  Rodney didn't care.  It didn't matter to him whether John was awake or asleep when the end came.  The important part was that he wouldn't be alone.

Rodney was half dozing in his chair when he was startled awake by the sound of raised voices just outside the door.  After quickly checking on John and assuring himself that he wasn't in danger of slipping away in the two seconds that it would take him to check on the noise, Rodney stood, his back cracking painfully, and threw the door open.

Dr. Lam, Generals O'Neill and Landry, and Sam stood in the corridor, in the middle of what looked and sounded like a tense argument.

Rodney closed the door behind him as he stepped out into the corridor and interrupted the conversation. "There's a man dying in there," he hissed, his voice breaking only a little on the word dying.  "Have a little respect."

"McKay, good, you're here." O'Neill clapped him on the shoulder before dismissing him and turning to look at Landry.  "Go on then, Hank.  Tell McKay why you're going to piss on the _one_ chance that Sheppard has.  I think we'd all like to hear you justify it to the man's face."

“I don’t have to justify my decision to anyone,” Landry almost yelled, “least of all you, Jack.  You’ve read the reports about the last allegiance they had with the damn Wraith. It ended with a fleet headed for Earth.  I am not letting that happen again.”

Rodney wasn’t entirely sure that he was following things correctly but it sounded an awful lot like Atlantis had come through with a Hail Mary.  

The argument was continuing without him, Landry arguing his position until he was red in the face while O’Neill’s face got whiter and angrier with each passing second.  

Sam caught his eye and nodded meaningfully at him.  

_ They’d done it.  Atlantis had done it. _

Ignoring the arguing Generals, he turned to Lam.  “Can he survive the trip?” he asked quietly.

Lam sighed, shoulders tight.  “I don’t know,” she said truthfully.  “The first time you transported him through the wormhole, right after it happened, his body was in a state of shock, we think that’s why he reacted so badly.  Coming here, he was more stable and the trip didn’t have any detrimental effect.  Now?” She shrugged.  “It’s anyone’s guess.  But, if he stays..”

Rodney nodded.  He didn’t need to be told what would happen if they did nothing.

“May I?” he held out his hand for Lam’s empty coffee cup.

Lam handed it over with a slight smile, jumping as Rodney sent it crashing against the wall of the corridor, right between the two Generals.

“For crying out loud, McKay, you can’t say ‘excuse me'?”

Ignoring Jack, Rodney cleared his throat.  “Now that I’ve got your attention.  If you don’t send Colonel Sheppard through the gate, if you don’t give him this chance" he did the only thing he could do,"..I’ll quit the program.  You can kiss any chance you have at recharging a ZPM goodbye.”" 

Landry folded his arms over his chest.  “Dr. McKay,” he said slowly, “you are _one_ man.  A very smart man, I’ll grant you, but the stargate program can survive the loss of any one man.”

Rodney hadn’t expected it to work, not really, but it seemed to have more of a chance than his other option of stealing a P-90 and storming the base.  Before he could look around for a P-90, Sam stepped up beside him.

“Can it stand the loss of two?” she said.  “Because if this is the kind of treatment that we can expect here from now on, then I quit too.”  She held her head high and Rodney saw O’Neill’s approving head nod from where he stood still in shock.

“You can find yourself a new CMO, as well,” Lam stepped up, flanking Rodney’s other side.  

Landry looked between the three of them in disbelief and Rodney didn’t know the man well enough to tell whether his resolve was being tested or if all three of them had just thrown their jobs away.

“Hell, add me in too,” O’Neill shrugged.  “I’ve always been a sucker for these ‘I am Spartacus’ moments.  So, _I am Spartacus_.  And I’m pretty sure Daniel and Teal’c are too.”

The only thing that stopped Rodney from opening his mouth and asking them what the hell they thought they were doing was the simultaneous sharp elbows from Sam and Dr. Lam.

“Your call, Hank,” O’Neill smirked.

-*-*-*-

Rodney and Lam stood at the edge of the ramp with John unconscious on the hospital bed between them.  

“You sure you want to come with us?” he asked her.  “The trip back on the Daedalus is possible the most boring space trip in two galaxies.”

She looked over at him, her eyes bright.  “Try and stop me,” she grinned.  “Besides, I’m invested in you two now.  Damned if I’m letting Carson take all the glory.”  

“If it even works,” Rodney muttered.

“Hey,” she caught his eye.  “It’ll _work_.”

“Wormhole engaged,” Walter’s voice sounded redundantly over the tannoy as the gate exploded into being.

“Hey, McKay.” 

Rodney looked at the glass window to see O’Neill speaking into the mic.

“When he’s better, you tell Sheppard that we owe him dinner the next time you’re back Earthside, OK?  Maybe some fishing too.”  O’Neill finished with a jaunty salute.

Rodney turned towards the event horizon, took a deep breath, reached out for the raised rail of the hospital bed and breathed out.  “Hail Mary,” he muttered.

-*-*-*-

Stepping back onto Atlantis was less like coming home than Rodney had thought it would be but the city still managed to take his breath away and hit him in the chest, almost like a physical sensation after being away for so long.

The spike of John’s heart monitor told Rodney that John felt it too.  Lam nodded at him as she checked John over.  He had made it without a hitch.

Looking around the gate room, he could see that the room was cleared to only those that John would have wanted to be there, much like it had been on the day when they left.  The only difference was a glaring one, a red-haired Wraith Queen standing at the foot of the stairs.

Rodney sucked in a breath.  

“Can you help him?” he asked.

The Queen stepped forward, causing Ronon to move with her.  Rodney sensed the Runner’s unease with the situation in the way he held himself but knew that he wouldn’t ruin John’s only chance.  Not when they’d come this far.

“I can,” the Queen bowed her head in greeting.  “Your mate is well thought of, there was no shortage of volunteers to offer intercession.”

“Interc - -”

Ronon interrupted Rodney by pulling down the edge of his tunic to reveal a feeding mark.  

“A hundred of us gave six months,” Ronon stated.  

Rodney looked around the room to see Teyla, Elizabeth and Carson show their own feeding marks.  He turned to look at John and knew that John would kick each and every one of their asses for doing that.  Hell, if this worked, there would probably be a queue of marines waiting to get their ass kicked by him, happy for the privilege, he knew that he would join the queue in a second if it meant John was well.

Rodney swallowed.  “Fifty years,” he murmured.  “He lost just over that.”

The Queen raised her hand.  “Your hive believed that you would wish to offer intercession for what remains.” The mouth on her feeding hand flexed as Rodney stepped forward, unbuttoning his shirt with steady hands.

“Do it,” he demanded.  “Please.”

“Rodney, you just had a heart attack,” Carson spoke up.  “You canna - -”

“You’ve seen the records, Carson. He’s fine.”  Lam nodded at Rodney before turning back to Carson.  “Let him do this.”

Rodney held his breath and tried to prepare for the - - _Pain_ coursed through his veins and down his limbs and - - _oh God, John_ \- - nothing could have prepared him for the pain of the feeding.  He felt his knees start to buckle as the Queen released him but Ronon was there to catch him, his strong arms wrapped around Rodney’s middle.

“You kept him alive,” Ronon murmured in his ear as he tried to get his breathing under control. “Knew you could do it, buddy.”

“How did you - - why is she helping us?” Rodney panted, watching as the Queen rolled her neck and breathed deeply as if preparing for something.

“In the end it was chance,” Teyla spoke gently to him as she greeted him in the Athosian way.  “The Bride, as she is known by the people of her world, is a healer.  The people there revere her and offer intercession on behalf of their family members and loved ones who are ill.  Major Lorne was most surprised to meet this Bride and discover a Queen.”

The Queen started to walk towards John, Carson and Lam stepping back to let her reach him and Rodney tried to break free of Ronon’s hold, suddenly sure that he was going to lose John forever.  “I need to say goodbye,” he called out, desperate, “just in case it doesn’t work.”

The Queen looked at him with fire in her eyes.  “It will work,” she smiled, showing all of her teeth.  “Watch.”

Rodney cried out as the Queen slammed her hand on John’s chest, John’s body arching up at the contact, the monitor beeping rapidly.

Ronon’s hands tightened on Rodney’s arms, holding him upright, and Teyla’s murmured whisperings of ‘please, please, please,’ formed a baseline for his heartbeat as Rodney held his breath in terrified hope.

As the lines in John’s face began to smooth out and the hair on his head started to thicken and darken, Rodney wasn’t the only one in the room who let out a sob of relief.  

The Queen stepped back, her job done and assessed them with a cool gaze.  “I trust that my bargain is struck,” she said.  “My world and my people are to be left as they are?”

Elizabeth pulled shakily away from the group to discuss the bargain set with the Wraith Queen but Rodney only had eyes for John.

John, who was blinking around the room, eyes searching for something.  His gaze reached Rodney and he pushed up, off the bed, easily pushing Carson aside as he walked, more steady that Rodney had seen him in months.  Rodney had a moment to wonder if John had always moved his hips like that when he walked before all thought left his head.

John’s mouth crushed against his own, a wild, desperate kiss that Rodney felt in his toes, every single agonising second of thinking that they could never have this again pouring into the kiss until Rodney felt like he couldn’t breathe.

The kiss gentled then, less bruising and more tender.  Rodney’s cheeks were wet with a mixture of his own tears and John’s as they held on and breathed into each other’s mouths.

“You didn’t let go,” John whispered.  “You never let go.”

Rodney smiled, his breath escaping in a huff of laughter.  “Yeah, sorry about that,” he murmured, taking John’s lips on his own again.  

“Come on, laddie,” Carson’s voice interrupted them, “you need to be checked over.  There’ll be plenty of time for that once you’re given the all clear.”

John waved Carson off, his eyes never leaving Rodney’s.  “I’m fine.”

“Aye, well you might be,” Carson blustered, “but this other one’s already had one heart attack this month, at least let me check him before you work on giving him a second one.”

John gave in, always more concerned with other’s health than his own, causing Rodney to groan.

“Did you not hear Lam?  I’m fine.  Good as new.”

“That was _before_ you let a Wraith feed on you,” Carson ignored his protests, fussing over him.

John’s hand, which had been stroking the length of Rodney’s back, stilled at Carson’s words and Rodney cursed the Scottish idiot under his breath.

“You let a Wraith feed on you?!” John yelled.

Ronon grinned, lifting John off the floor in a bone crushing hug.  “We all did,” he laughed, swinging John a few feet to the left before letting him down.  “Good to have you home, Sheppard.”

John smiled, shaking his head.  He looked around Atlantis and accepted a hug from Teyla.  Meeting Rodney’s eyes, he swallowed thickly.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “Home."   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so I shamelessly stole the character of the Wraith Queen, Alabaster, from the Legacy Series of Books because, honestly, my first outline which had it as the result of the fake Alliance in the episode 'Allies' fell apart when I remembered that Common Ground was season 3 and Allies was season 2. D'oh!
> 
> This is the end of the main story but there will be a smooshy epilogue to reward everyone who has slogged through 18k of angst with me!


	10. Epilogue

John was pleasantly sore after his run and already looking forward to getting in the shower where he would ask Atlantis to turn the pressure up high and let his muscles melt under the scaldingly hot water. He'd even contemplated convincing Rodney to join him.

It felt good to move again, to stretch his muscles and push his body to the limits of its capability under his own terms. He remembered how it felt to get winded by the simple act of getting dressed, to feel so exhausted that the walk from the bed to the bathroom would have been beyond him. John revelled in being able to move again, to run, to fight, to - God - to fly.

Ronon clapped him on the shoulder as they approached John's quarters. "We still on for sparring later?"

John nodded, grinning. "I promised you an ass kicking for that stunt you pulled, don't think I've forgotten."

Ronon's eyes crinkled with amusement. "That was four months ago. You haven't managed to kick my ass yet, what makes today any different."

"I've got a good feeling about today," John shrugged. "Eleven o'clock," he promised. "Wait and see."

Ronon snorted a laugh as he jogged off backwards, leaving John standing outside his quarters door. "I'll believe it when I see it, old man."

John made a rude gesture with his middle finger as Ronon belly laughed his way down the corridor and out of sight. Stretching his arms, John turned his mind back to the hot shower and a certain naked, possibly wet, astrophysicist and thought the door open.

"There you are!"

Rodney was unfortunately neither naked or wet, already dressed in his science blues with what looked like two cups of coffee in his system already that morning.

"Here I am," John agreed.. "Did you want something from me?" he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Yes," Rodney completely ignored John's attempt to flirt and thrust a tablet in front of his face. "I want an explanation," he demanded.

"An explanation for what?"

"This!" Rodney waved the tablet under John's nose until John grabbed it from him.

Skimming over the open email, John sighed in resignation. "Sam told you. She promised me she wouldn't."  
  
"You think she was going to hide this from me?" Rodney scoffed. "I'll have you know that Sam and I are very close these days. Did I tell you about - -"

"- about the time that she threatened to quit in solidarity with you? No, Rodney, you haven't." John smirked at Rodney's flush of annoyance. To be fair, he had heard that story approximately once every 2.6 days since they'd got back and there was only so often he could take it. No matter how cute Rodney was when he was all flustered and taken aback that people would do that for him.

Rodney waved off John's sarcasm with practiced ease. "John," he stressed. "You solved the Navier-Stokes equation. That's a big deal. Why wouldn't you tell me about that?"  
John threw the tablet on the unmade bed and shrugged, uncomfortable with the way that Rodney was looking at him. "It's just a stupid math problem," he tried to underplay it.

"It's a stupid Millennium math problem!" Rodney argued. "It comes with a million dollars in prize money."

"Only if it still stands up two years from now," John counter argued. "I haven't even decided if I'll publish it."

"You haven't even decided if - - " Rodney threw his hands up in the air. "John, this is huge. You have to publish this. You have to - you deserve this. Is it...is it because you did most of the work when you were..."

"When I was old?" John smiled. "You can say it, Rodney. I'm not going to break. And no, it's not because of that. It's...look, what would I do with a million dollars?"

"You could travel the world."

"I've travelled the galaxy. Costa Rica and Thailand doesn't exactly match up."

"Fine, then, you could buy a ranch. I know how much you love horses."

John made a face.

"Buy Johnny Cash's guitar then," Rodney waved his hands, "or donate it to a charity, the Veterans Association or something. Just, John, you deserve the recognition that this would give you."

John liked the idea of giving the money to charity. Maybe there was some kind of charity that helped care for the elderly that could use the money. God knows not everybody in the world had a Rodney to look after them when they needed it. It had taken him a while to get his head out of his ass and accept Rodney's help but John knew, without a doubt, that he would have given up long before Atlantis came through for him if he had been left to rot in a home like Clearwater View. Nobody should have to spend their last days somewhere like that.

"I'll think about it," he promised. "That's the best I can offer you right now."

"Fine," Rodney huffed. "But I'm not letting this go."

John smiled. "Yeah, you're good at that." He reached down and stripped off his sweaty shirt, tossing it in the direction of the laundry basket. "Wanna not let go of me in the shower?" he asked, smirking when Rodney's eyes drifted appreciatively over his torso. "I'll make it worth your while."

"The labs," Rodney protested weakly. "Zelenka...reports..."

John stepped out of his shorts and grinned. "You coming?" He turned his back on Rodney, making sure his hips swayed a little more than usual as he walked into the bathroom.

Turning on the shower and stepping under the spray, John rolled his eyes and yelled through to the bedroom. "Come on, Rodney. Before I die of old age."

He could hear Rodney's squawk of outrage over the pounding of the water and laughed as Rodney marched into the bathroom, stripping his clothes as he went. "Way too soon," he cautioned, before grabbing John and pushing him up against the wet ceramic. "Way too soon."

John kissed him softly, placing his hand over the feeding scar in the middle of Rodney's chest, a match to his own.  
"Let me make it up to you. Raise your hands and grab on to the shower rail," he whispered, dropping to his knees in front of Rodney.

Rodney shuddered, half hard already and complied.

John looked up at him. God, he was beautiful. Not so long ago, he was so sure that he would never have this again.

He should have known that Rodney would never have left him behind. Not if he could help it.

"Now, remember," he said. "Don't let go."

Rodney shook his head and smiled. "Never."

He knew that he'd been right to have a good feeling about today.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm done. Wooo! First fic to make it over 20k! Achievement unlocked! 30k here I come! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read along with me as I wrote this and hi to everyone who's reading it for the first time. Sorry about all the angst! 
> 
> Come say hi on [Tumblr](http://buffycuddlespigs.tumblr.com)


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